The next day, I’m determined to redeem myself in front of my boss. I load my schedule with work and don a sleek black dress with the smallest neckline I have, hoping to keep Dmitry Alexandrovich from getting too irritated.
As soon as I step into the office, I nearly collide with him. His brief, assessing glance makes it clear that I haven’t impressed him. Fortunately, he gets a phone call, shoots me a stern look, and retreats to his office.
“What’s going on?” I hear from within. I follow him quietly, placing the necessary documents on his desk, eager to exit and avoid eavesdropping.
“Milana, wait,” he commands, and I freeze.
I sigh internally and turn back. He gestures to a chair, ending the call, and I sit, bracing myself for the inevitable.
“We’re facing some difficulties at our new site. You need to go there. I have a VIP client coming. So, get ready. You’ll go.”
My eyes widen. Is he serious?
“Umm, Dmitry Alexandrovich, perhaps…” I hesitate, but his piercing stare silences my protest.
“Do you have any objections?” His thick brow arches, and his gaze makes it clear that “no” is the only acceptable answer.
“No, of course not,” I say, biting back my frustration.
“Good. You have half an hour to reach the site,” he states matter-of-factly.
“Wait, what?” My inner voice screams. How am I supposed to get across town in half an hour? Does he expect me to sprout wings?
I take a deep breath, willing my irritation to simmer down. “Dmitry, I can’t possibly get there that quickly. You understand?” I lift my chin defiantly, meeting his intense gaze.
He processes my words for a moment, then picks up his phone again. His fingers tap quickly on the screen, and before I know it, he’s speaking again.
“Mykolaivych, are you on your way? Ah, I got tied up here. My lawyer will go instead. Could you pick her up? It’ll be quicker than waiting for a taxi.”
I stiffen, realizing he’s talking about the same Mykolaivych who had so rudely assessed my figure the other day. The thought of sharing a car with him makes me tense.
I glance at myself in the mirror; the neckline may not be too revealing, but still…
Whatever. I’ll wrap myself in a coat and scarf; this March weather can be unpredictable, swinging from sunny to stormy in moments.
Dmitry Alexandrovich ends the call and fixes his gaze back on me. “Andriy Mykolayovych is already on his way. Don’t keep him waiting. He’s an important client.”
I grind my teeth. “Then you should’ve gone yourself!” I scream in my head, knowing I can’t risk my job. I’ve just started settling in here.
With a forced smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes, I rise from the chair. “Alright. I’ll grab the necessary documents.”
“Good. You’re free to go. Report back later,” he replies, waving me off.
I nod and hurry out, grabbing the essential paperwork and rushing to the restroom. I take a critical look in the mirror, assessing the neckline again. It’s fine. If Poliansky wants to gawk, let him.
I gather my documents, purse, and head to the cloakroom, throwing on my coat and wrapping the scarf tightly around my neck before stepping outside.
The black Audi is parked out front, headlights flashing as I approach. I open the passenger door.
“Good day, Andriy Mykolayovych,” I say, trying to keep my tone neutral.
“Good day, Milana. Get in. We’re already running late,” he replies, his tone clipped, and I suppress a grimace.
His mood isn’t playful today, and I feel a strange tension between us as I buckle my seatbelt. I can’t help stealing glances at him. He seems annoyed, but I know I shouldn’t judge too quickly based on one encounter.
My thoughts get interrupted when the car stops at a red light. Andriy turns to me, his eyes glinting. “Enjoying the view?” he teases, catching me staring.
Damn him. I blush, struggling to regain composure. “Absolutely. I mean, I’m just trying to figure out how to entertain myself in such riveting company,” I retort, arching an eyebrow.
His laughter is infectious, and I find myself momentarily captivated by his smile, the little mole above his lip drawing my gaze. I quickly look away, feeling my cheeks heat up.
My nerves kick into overdrive when I accidentally catch his gaze lingering on my lips. A rush of warmth floods my body, and I awkwardly shift in my seat, suddenly feeling stifled by the scarf around my neck.
“Feeling hot?” he asks, his tone deceptively casual.
“I’m fine, thanks,” I manage, turning to the window, though I yank off the offending scarf as soon as he’s not looking. The sudden rush of fresh air feels heavenly, and I can’t help but notice the subtle change in temperature as he turns down the heat.
Thank goodness we’re almost at our destination. The car park beside the newly constructed facility my bosses for a joint venture. As we step outside, the sun shines down, but I’m still too warm from our drive to leave my coat on. I unbutton it, breathing a sigh of relief.
The foreman approaches us immediately, and Poliansky shifts his focus to him. I take a moment to collect myself. It turns out the owners of the neighboring plot have arrived, making vague claims about territorial boundaries and land use violations.
Nonsense. I’ve reviewed all the documentation and know everything is in order.
A nagging question forms in my mind: Where were these claims before? Why raise this issue now, after the facility is built?
As we follow the foreman, I gently touch Poliansky’s elbow, eager to share my thoughts. “Andriy Mykolayovych, I have some questions.”
He slows down and turns his head to me, his gaze piercing. “Let’s hear what they have to say,” he responds, glancing at my hand still resting on his elbow. A sudden spark runs through me, and I jerk my hand away, heat flooding my face.
I breathe deeply, raising my head high. Despite his serious demeanor, there’s a mischievous glint in his turquoise eyes that leaves me feeling unsteady.
“What the hell? Why does he affect me this way?” I think my heart is racing as we finally approach two well-dressed men who look every bit the businessmen they are. Their presence amplifies my unease as we prepare to navigate this unexpected challenge.